


Sweet Treats

by PatPrecieux



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Fluff and Humor, Halloween Costumes, John is a Saint, M/M, Sherlock is a Brat, Trick or Treat: Treat, Trick or Treat: Trick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-23 20:07:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12515524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PatPrecieux/pseuds/PatPrecieux
Summary: John promises Sherlock and he will come to the Yard's children's Halloween party- in costume. Sherlock only agrees if HE can choose the outfits.





	Sweet Treats

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChrisCalledMeSweetie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChrisCalledMeSweetie/gifts).



> "Could be dangerous", John thought, letting Sherlock pick the costumes. But it was preferable to a week long strop. After all, how bad could it be?
> 
> *This has been done before, probably better, but a comic in our local paper stuck in my head, and The Boys insisted. Save your hisses and BOOS!!!! For the comments. 
> 
> To a Spook-tacular Ghoul-friend, ChrisCalledMeSweetie, the inspiration for my crossing to the dark side. ❤️
> 
> HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

"Holy hell, Sherlock, it's a party, for little children, not the Spanish Inquisition!"

Sherlock never moved from his "I won't, and you can't make me" position on the sofa. "At least with the Spanish Inquisition there would be a valid reason for screaming, crying and projectile vomiting."

"Nice. Lovely image that, you git. What a joy you must have been as a child, your parents deserve a medal from the Queen."

"I'm sure they would decline, you know how they despise the London traffic. Nevertheless, this is me, saying NO."

John flopped down into his chair with a heavy sigh, "I can see this heading for a row, so let's stop now. The bottom line is, I promised Greg."

"You shouldn't have promised my attendance without asking."

John decided to resort to strategy. "You're right, love, that was a bit not good and I'm really sorry. Is there anything I can do to convince you? Tea, biscuits, steamy sweaty sex?"

Sherlock felt his entire body flush, and at the same time an evil thought entered his "magnificent" brain. "Tea and biscuits would be lovely. However, I've just showered and washed my hair. Mustn't undermine the effort with coitus."

"No, worries there, Romeo. You've put me right off, Mr. Clean. So, what's it to be, what are your terms for capitulation?"

"I'll go to the ridiculous party IF and only if I procure the costumes." Sherlock was glad John couldn't see the grin on his face.

"Could be dangerous", John thought, letting Sherlock pick the costumes. But it was preferable to a week long strop. After all, how bad could it be? "Fine, you child, agreed. You pick the costumes, but no gore or guts, severed body parts - REAL or otherwise, and absolutely NO BLOOD! Are we clear?"

"Boooriiing! What's left, Mother Goose? Though on reflection you'd be perfect as "Little Boy Blue".

"Very funny, genius- enough of that. There's lots of choices, take Greg and Mycroft for example."

"You take them, John. Since they have been doing the nasty, they are insufferable."

John literally guffawed, "Doing the nasty? How do you even know that?"

"Your insistence that I become more vernacular aware became so annoying, I was forced to investigate some popular tropes in order to defend myself."

"Well I AM impressed. You would be familiar with the Marvel Universe then."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Yes, yes. Weird people in padded costumes performing acts of daring do. All very mundane. A man who hangs from spider webs, another who is wolf like but his claws are metal, and a wizard Doctor who is called, little wonder, Strange. God! I could throw on a cape, a fake goatee, and bad jewelry and pass for that one. Rubbish! What about it?"

"Might interest you to know Greg and Mycroft are going as Loki and Thor. It's for a giggle I think. Greg, the honest as the day is long cop, as a master mischief maker, and Mycroft who hates exercise more than dieting, as the God of Thunder, carrying around that massive hammer. See, this could be fun."

"Debatable and doubtful, John. So, you would be amenable to wearing tights? I'll take your silence as a yes. Who else is going in costume?"

"Hudders, Mike and Molly, think they're becoming an item, and of course, Donovan.", John sputtered.

"Playing the wicked witch no doubt."

"Don't know, but now you're getting into the spirit, pardon the pun."

"You thought THAT was a pun?"

"Never mind, you. The party's Saturday at 2, and seeing as this is Thursday afternoon you'd better get a move on and arrange for those costumes. Get dressed."

"Really John, someone must disabuse you of the idea that leaving the flat is necessary for simple tasks. A few keystrokes to find what's on offer in our respective sizes, a quick click on two pretty pictures, no reading even necessary, and instantly everything will be like Christmas. I'll just go to our room and make the selections."

Watching his lover retreat, John momentarily felt quite satisfied, until his mind reviewed, Christmas. "Sherlock, you are not going as Father Christmas and I AM NOT an elf", he paused his mind whirling, "or a reindeer! And make sure our costumes make sense together, and no cross dressing! Kids remember, kids."

Pausing by the door Sherlock smiled, "Have no worries my darling blogger, I'll handle everything."

John groaned, "That's what scares me."

***~~~***

Sherlock had assured John the ordered costumes would arrive by noon Saturday, but it was quarter past one before they appeared. "Sherlock, we've just enough time to dress and get to the Yard. Was that your plan? Give me that box, you menace."

Minutes later, John howled, "What the bloody hell is this?!"

"Come out and let me admire you, John.", he smirked.

Coming out of the bedroom, John's face was scarlet. "A Smartie, I'm a fucking Orange Smartie!!"

"Please John, control yourself. You did say you would not object to wearing tights, and I'm unsure if intercourse is possible for Smarties. By the way, you should be gratified. The orange one's are filled with orange chocolate, the others are quite dull in comparison. Besides, you look good enough to eat, and candy is the point of this holiday is it not?"

"I don't have time for a change, but I'm telling you now, Sherlock, you had better not come out that door as a posh Prince Charming, a hot blooded Don Juan or even one of your sexy pirates, or there will be a REAL dead body at the party- yours!"

"Really John, I told you our costumes would be compatible, although I appreciate your vision for me. Also, despite the choices being limited in my size, I assure you I am equally edible. Be back in a tic."

Somehow, John was not feeling any less anxious. When Sherlock did emerge, John couldn't move or speak.

"See", Sherlock twirled around to show off his selection, "I told you we were a well matched. What do you think?"

John swallowed hard and coughed, "Ah, love, I need to tell you, we have to talk about...I don't think you realize..."

"Heaven above, Watson! I get it. I'm brilliant, amazing, fantastic, etc. No time for that now. Hudders is waiting downstairs, and we need to go. Put on your coat, it's chilly out. Come along, John."

As Sherlock flew down the stairs, Belstaff swirling, John weakly continued protesting, "But...But...But , Sherlock, love..."

Sherlock paid no mind, "Hudders, what are you wearing, who are you?"

She broke out in a cheeky grin, "Obviously, dear, I'm Lady Gaga, and We're on the Edge Of Glory."

"Lady who, Goo-goo? Must have deleted it. Not important, the game is on."

"Just a minute you two, open those coats and give us a peek, yeah?"

Reluctantly, John did, causing Martha to chuckle softly, then she turned to Sherlock. Gasping, she pushed John to the nearest corner. "John Watson is that a...is he wearing...how could you let him..."

"Martha, he picked it out, and I TRIED to tell him that it's..."

"Will you both get a move on, the cab is here."

"Sherlock, dear..."

"Later, Mrs. Hudson. Whatever it is can't be that important."

***~~~***

The party was well underway when the trio arrived and John knew it was useless to try to keep Sherlock in his coat. As a compromise, he sent him off to hang Mrs. Hudson's shawl and feather boa, and his jacket. Quickly, he gathered Mycroft, Greg, Mike, Molly and Sally around him. 

"Listen up you lot, Sherlock chose our costumes and picked his because it fit. He is CLUELESS what he's actually wearing. If even one of you says anything, I will kill you, and believe me, with my medical skills it will be a slow and agonizingly painful death. Donovan, one single word from you and YOU MADAME will die twice. Any bloody stupid questions? No? Good!"

Just then, the detective returned to his stunned but mute audience. "Ah brother mine, going to use that hammer to beat the kiddies away from the candy table, and Golem, besides your terrible taste in boyfriends, what other mischief are you about?"

His gaze fell on Mike and Molly- Victorian Sherlock Holmes Mike and Doctor Watson Molly complete with handlebar mustache. "Other than you being taller than "Watson", I can't recommend you as a doppelgänger for me Mike, but Molly, the mustache suits you, without it your mouth is too small."

Then it was Sally's Wizard of Oz Dorothy that drew his attention. "Well Donovan, you're clearly over the rainbow, but tell me, where is your little dog, Anderson. Oh I know, not housebroken enough to be taken out of his kennel. Too bad, so sad."

John moved as quickly as his thick candy shell would allow and grabbed his lover by the hand. "Come on Lock, seems as if they need some help serving the Witches Brew Punch and Eyeball Cupcakes to the wee ones. Looks like a job for the, ah, Candy Men. Let's go." As they walked away, John looked back over his shoulder and mouthed, "NOT ONE WORD!!!!"

As soon as the pair were out of earshot, the group burst into raucous laughter. John's warning had the desired effect, however, and all kept a safe distance from Sherlock and his murderous Doctor.

***~~~***

John would later thank whatever spirits, familiars or incantations protected both of them from comment or ridicule during the party, and, of course, the kids had loved them, even giving them a round of applause for favorite costumes. It was a near thing, though, when one little boy told Sherlock that Mummy Holmes must be very cool because she let him wear such a great costume.

As they stripped out of their "party clothes" back at Baker Street, with an eye towards creating some bedroom magic, Sherlock was pleased. "It wasn't such a bad day all together. The children certainly showed good sense in their admiration of our costumes, but why would Mummy be concerned?"

"Who knows why kids say the things they do. The boy probably wanted to go as Jack the Ripper and his mum made him and his sister go as Jack and Jill."

"Well you were definitely delectable as the citrus Smartie, whereas yours truly, well, what kiddie doesn't love a big serving of chocolate flavored Mr. Whippy. Perhaps followed by a tongue full of Smarties. Speaking of tongue..."

"I get the point, love. Hmmm, Mr. Whippy puts me in the mood for chocolate sauce and I think there just might be a huge bag of Smarties in our Halloween pumpkin. You'll look delicious in a coating of chocolate and candy. Want to go trick or treating?"

A hour or so later, John was forced to surrender and vowed to swear off Halloween candy and chocolate sauce forever, or at least until next year. In the meantime, he had licked every bit of the the Sweet Treat that was his consulting detective, as said "brilliant boy" congratulated himself on having chosen such an aphrodisiac outfit. That particular remark seemed to dampen John's passions for a moment, but then Three Continents Watson found his appetite again and continued. 

No tricks, save impossible contortionist positions, and all treats resulting in moans, and screams soon found both Candy Men heading for the shower. As John adjusted the water, Sherlock entered the activities of the day in the Haunted House Room of his Mind Palace, with the highlighted notations being that chocolate sauce was a poor substitute for flavored lube, though still better than that horrible Pumpkin Spice flavor, and crushed Smarties in bed were not a pleasant cushion for his plush arse. 

***~~~***

As they sat together on the sofa, warm and full of Mrs. Hudson's Beef Wellington, provided to calm John's nerves and "celebrate" Sherlock's fashion sense, the younger man was positively chuffed.

"I realize, John, despite how adorable you were as a Smartie, should the occasion arise again, you may wish to transform into another persona. I will not be pressed for a different costume however. This one was not only comfortable, but such a smashing success with young and old alike, that I shall require no other. I am, in fact, purchasing this one from the Costumer."

John began choking and Sherlock gently patted his back in alarm. "Are you quite alright, don't want to lose my favorite treat now that I've developed a real taste for you. Would you like some tea?"

John wiped tears from his eyes and, clearing his throat, croaked out, "Tea would be good, I'll make it. While I do, you need to see something." Looking deep into Sherlock's eyes, he pressed on. "Love, I'm so glad you enjoyed today, but I need to know that you believe I would never see you embarrassed to save my soul."

Sherlock blinked, confused. "Don't talk nonsense John, of course I believe that. Why are you asking that question now?"

"Well, earlier, I tried to talk to you if you recall and you said it wasn't important and could wait. Actually it was, and now it can't. Oh bugger it all, just remember I love you, and read this."

The doctor went to his laptop and accessed a website. Silently, he handed it to his lover and slunk into the kitchen.

"Very well John, I will indulge your whims, but when you come back, do try to be less cryptic. Less handwringing and more vigorous snogging if you please. Now what is so earthshaking that it requires my immediate attention?"

A small voice squeaked from a safe distance, "Don't forget- you love me too."

As Sherlock scrolled down the entry, his eyes grew big as jack o' lanterns and his skin clammy as a zombie. Heart pounding and pulse racing, he glared at the article one last time and screeched, "John Hamish Watson, what the BLOODY FUCK IS A POOP EMOJI??!!"

HAPPY HALLOWEEN !!

**Author's Note:**

> Halloween need not be Spooooky  
> If your costume is quite kooky.  
> May your goodies all be sweet,  
> Have fun going TRICK OR TREAT!
> 
> Blessed Be.
> 
> ** Mr. Whippy is the term used in the U.K. for what we here in the U.S. call Soft-Serve ice cream. Smarties are closest to our plain M&M's, only different. Lol.


End file.
